@[email protected]

The zines of a radical communal care collective

CW: Mention of illness, despair, death

Cover

The title page shows the title of the zine written in varied fonts underneath a symbolised target with an arrow stuck in its centre, the arrow has a COVID virus at the end


To download the PDF versions of this zine please visit available in color for web & b&w for print. To find all the images in better resolution please visit.


To me the pandemic isn't over until our medicine people say it's over. [Until] the immuno-compromised, the most vulnerable [say it is].

~ Klee Benally [Indigenous Action Podcast Ep. 18]


Intro:

The pandemic is over, or so those in power and the media claim. And most people believe them. Which is understandable, to a certain extent. People want to pretend the pandemic is over. They want to adapt to the “new normal” of continuous re-infection. They are lead to believe that they can do so without too much risk.

Can they keep pretending like this forever?

For many of us this charade is not an option. Many of us, who are chronically ill, disabled, immuno-compromised, or a mixture of these afflictions, do not have the luxury of taking such a risk. Many of us, who suffer from LongCOVID, still have to try our best to never get re-infected, painfully aware that reinfections often make our symptoms worse. And when more people around us relax their precautions, the task of avoiding a (re-)infection is getting ever harder.

Thankfully, some people remain cautious. Some of them because they want to protect themselves, their loved ones, their families. Others remain cautious because of their solidarity with those who are less privileged, as a political act, one that shows their care for the common good.

This zine aims to give a voice to the people, forced into continued 'COVIDing'. By describing day to day situations, concrete problems that might arise, we hope to show what living under these conditions can look and feel like. We hope that this illustrates our demand, as expressed in our previous zine, for a radical left that keeps taking this horrendous disease seriously and is willing to protect ourselves and our comrades.

This is a follow-up zine to our earlier one, An Open Letter to our Comrades or mirrored here.


In this context of social isolation and forced dependency on hostile systems, mutual aid—where we choose to help each other out, share things, and put time and resources into caring for the most vulnerable—is a radical act.

~ Dean Spade [Book: Mutual Aid]


You wonder why i still wear a mask?

Author: Radical Communal Care Illustration: [email protected] CC BY-NC

A black and white artwork depicting a short haired masked person and below them is a flowchart. It also has a QR code that links to the "An Open Letter to our Anarchist, Socialist and Radical Leftist Comrades". The person asks: You wonder why | still wear a mask?? Start of the flowchart: Are you aware the pandemic is not over? options : Yes/No If yes - we good then - wear a mask as well please (last field of flowchart) If no - Do you even know what a a virus is? - If yes- thumbs up emoji - do you know covid is airborne? yes/no if yes -- wear a mask if no-now you know. Still not convinced? Read this - qr code If you do not know what a virus is - you kidding me? - yes - smiley face - wear a mask If you were not kidding- read this - qr code Done reading? no? back to gr code. Yes? Wear a mask as well please


Table Of Contents

Cover Intro You wonder why i still wear a mask? I'm not going to get better Sick Event Germ Pod Resistance – Excerpt Raining on My Anarchist Parade
] Tunnel Love Bathroom Sunrise Też chcę ta ń czyć Practice makes community I believe i sound like a broken record Are you sick? But we are fine. The government doesn't care ofc Caring About Care Palestine, COVID, Cop City—Still Masking Up – Excerpt Longue absence, COVID & COVID long Opticians, Dentists, and Denialists Repairperson boogieperson What does not heal me makes me poorer Unm(asking) time Mask Thing One Breath at a Time Caramelle Outro

Find better versions of all the images by clicking them


I'm not going to get better.


Author: [email protected] Source: https://dotart.blog/cobbles/im-not-going-to-get-better

The truth is we won't get better.

The distance is massive between myself and friends and family who are not as fatigued as I am. Other than my partner the only people who realize are my father and my brother. Even my father slips up sometimes.

It's language. It's our culture. Our society is based on our usefulness.

Although in his case, I know he's hoping I feel a little better for a while so I can get stuff done. Because being constantly fatigued is draining, it's depressing. Because he had his own Post Viral infection in the 1980s he hopes I recover. It wrecked his life. Which is the last thing he wants for me.

Other folks though. They don't get it.

They don't get why I need them to wear a mask. They don't get why every time they say or write an insincere get well soon message it's like metal scratching down a chalkboard on my psyche.

It comes off to me as passive aggressive. As if I change my ideas and buck up I'll magically feel better.

I'm not going to get better. If I'm lucky I will have more “good days” than “bad days.”


Sick Event

Text/design: [email protected] using modified illustration by N.O.Bonzo via justseeds.org | anti-copyright

Flyer for an imaginary party called: Sick Event, right before the title it says: Sorry, I can’t come to your Sick Event. Bellow is shown an image of a rooster attacking a policeman who is bending backwards


Germ Pod Resistance – Excerpt

Author: Anonymous NO-©

Pray for the dead, and fight like hell for the living. ~ Mother Jones

I was worried about what covid was going to do to society, but because of my extreme isolation, I wasn’t too personally worried about getting it. Sadly, that feeling, and my level of isolation, have remained more or less unchanged. I am privileged enough that I was able to get a job at a landscaping company, and since 2020 I have worked solely outdoors. I’m in a germ pod with 7 other people who freely hang out at each other’s houses without masks. None of us have gotten on a plane, eaten in a restaurant, had a drink at a bar, or spent time indoors around people outside of the germ pod without wearing an N95 or respirator. None of us have ever tested positive for covid. We consider our efforts to have been worthwhile.

If you call yourself an anarchist, it should be because you feel deeply within your heart the anguish of oppressed life everywhere. It should be because you feel equally deeply the inherent tendency of all life to rebel. It should be because all your life you’ve felt like a goat escaping from ignorant shepherds. [...] I garden. I cook. I play video games. I practice martial arts. I sing to my cat. I play DND over voice chat with my friends. I recently talked with a friend of mine who had gone on a trip to Europe. I was like “that’s awesome but I’m way too scared of covid to get on a plane” and they said “Covid is scary but the feeling of being left behind felt scarier.” I thought to myself: who here is leaving whom behind? My mental health is now totally disconnected from what other people think of me, and absolutely non-reliant on something like going on vacation to Europe. I feel like I’m the one who has left mainstream society behind to circulate this virus amongst itself. Y’all do what you want, I’m going to be out planting tree saplings.

I’m sad to not meet my friend’s babies right now. But I will be able to talk to them when they are adults. When they ask me how people my age let covid get so bad, I’ll be able to look them in the eyes and say: “I never understood any of it, and I fought it as hard as I could, every step of the way.”

Love and solidarity to everyone out there who is still resisting a world which is trying to kill us. The struggle against covid IS the struggle against colonialism, capitalism, white supremacy, and ableism. This is not a struggle we fight dramatically in the streets, but a long, protracted struggle alone at home. This is not a struggle that we can win without effort, diligence, mutual care, and powerful self-love — but I do believe it is one that we can win.

This is an excerpt from a longer piece, because of character limit find full text here


Raining on My Anarchist Parade


Author: [email protected]

I don't like tags, but as my politics evolved from “democratic socialism” into more “libertarian socialism” by 2020, I tried a call out for people in my area to help revive our IWW branch. Several initial meetings took place online with a view to formalising the branch, but I found it perturbing when there was some talk of following government advice on the pandemic. I thought, as anarchists, we might want to follow science over state politicians. Nonetheless, with the branch back up and running with a life of its own, I stayed involved online and as I learned about the Solidarity Federation, figured we could maybe replicate this local enthusiasm in starting a Local. A few people got in touch, expressing interest, and we talked about getting things up and running, and even had an online meeting where members of other Locals gave their input.

Promise was in the air again! Then a few of us talked about having our own meeting for our Local. I'd of course explained that, with the ongoing pandemic, and caring for my partner (who has Long Covid), I was very happy with online meetings. One person responded expressing that, aww gee, they really wanted to start an anarchist community and therefore that meant meeting in-person, which stunned me with its ignorance and ableism. This person and one other decided that, if I didn't mind, they'd just go ahead and arrange their meeting in-person, without me, in a pub. I'm not really the type to tell people what to do, so I thought, if that's what they wanted, let them do it. They cancelled due to stormy weather. I left the chat.


Tunnel Love


Author: [email protected] CC BY-NC
 Website: https://www.radioklotestad.nl/

Walking along the ring road
 i get carried away 
in the hypnotic passing of all those car hearts 
on their way from A to B
 and the tarmac sings 
just for me
 endless noise.



I live on hold
 in the queue
 between the lines 
i lose myself
 on a daily basis.



An endless pause, and i'm staring at my sandwich.



Through the revolving door
 i follow one way
 which never gives way
 but back inside
 and i receive myself
 in silence.



An endless silence,
 and i'm staring at my shoes.



I'm staring at Life Goes On.



I'm staring at Together,
 somewhere far away. 


Bathroom Sunrise


Author: [email protected] CC BY-NC 
Website: https://www.radioklotestad.nl/

The sun rises in the bathroom while the fragile state of life betrays me, 
me between dodging the brittle wall.

Does loneliness yawn the slow thump of an inescapability
 with the nervous precision of silence
 that likes to determine how gone you must be to be heard And no matter how i listen today,
the birds are silent.


Też chcę ta ń czyć

Author: gomi ゴミ by XymMusic Music/recording: CC BY-NC-ND, but you can use the text and the translation according to CC BY-NC-SA

I want to dance too
 I want to be able to be in a shared space I want to synchronize my body's movements with the bodies of others, and derive pleasure from it
 I want to do it safely 
I do not want to risk my life or my health 
I want the natural validation that comes from mirroring other peoples movements and gestures 
I want to control my movements and the space around me and the impact my movements have on others 
I want others to mirror my movement
 I want to mirror other peoples movements 
I want others to have the same empathy towards me that I have towards them 
I want to be able to be in a shared space 
and I want this space to be safe for everyone, for me, for others, for all kinds of animals 
I want to communicate through movements, gestures, eyes, sounds

but also with a lack of sound and movement


Practice makes community


Author: Kate Nyhan

A photo of an impressive looking piano with other instruments on top

Making music, together…. Hanging on the conductor’s every twitch, or hoping like hell that the trumpeter’s cue will be accurate. Playing in rowdy pubs and serene churches (and sometimes, boisterous churches and calm pubs). Sharing joy, sharing comfort, sharing catharsis — above all, sharing.

But now, sharing air indoors is not safe, and so I make music in different ways. I practice at home, alone. I sing along to oratorios, alone. I turn my favorite arias into trombone vocalises, alone.

When we make music together, we’re a community. But when we make music indoors without NPIs to reduce airborne disease transmission, we’re excluding people from our community, and we’re putting each other at risk.

So for now, I’m “just practicing.” I’m practicing the trombone and the piano and the penny whistle, and I’m practicing my values by advocating for inclusion and clean indoor air.


I believe i sound like a broken record

Author: [email protected] CC BY-NC

A shard of a record with a sticker on it that reads "Sorry. I've explained too many times why i still wear a mask". Next to it there's a QR-code that leads to our zine: An Open Letter to our Comrades

More broken records follow later


Are you sick? But we are fine.

Author: [email protected] CC BY-NC

The colored drawing is a wimmelbild showing various scenes from the ongoing pandemic. At the center there is a huddled person who sits on a broken record, saying "I sound like a broken record". At the top right there are scenes from a anti-vax-protest in front of a hospital. On a screen a person in a hospital bed on a respirator can be seen. At the top left corner there's a doctor without a mask leaning into a patient, who seems intimidated. Right underneath a revolver points away, 5 chambers are empty one contains a COVID virus, to signify the russian roulette of Long COVID. In the bottom left corner there's a train station with an incoming train called "you do you", most people in the train don't wear a mask except one person squeezed to the window. Ahe sign reads "next stop: Long COVID". Bellow there's a syringe with a drop. Above to the right a group of kids tries to cross the street, on the crossing are written "LC, diabetes, MIS-C and POTS". To the right of it there's a dance party where no one wears a mask and death stands there with a smiley head. On the side of the floor is a panel that reads, "no time to grieve". Bellow that there's a capybara relaxing on a turtle, next to the flags of a pandemic memorial. Above the dance floor a woman with wild hair opens the door and asks, "Why masked? It's just a flu. We're fine". On a screen there's a video-chat where one person has a cat face.

Or find a black&white version of this image here

Here's a conversation that seems to happen on a loop with my mother: I appear at her door wearing my mask. She asks: Are you sick? I say no. She says: But we are healthy?! At this point I have explained it so often that i have given up trying to explain it to her. Yes, the pandemic is still ongoing, yes, the virus is still airborne, and no, you cannot say for sure that you are healthy. You can get sick the next day and already be contagious today, you can be sick without symptoms and be contagious – and the same goes for me. I have given up telling her that by wearing a mask i am protecting her as well. She always takes it as a personal insult. The last time, when i said that i am tired of explaining it, she started to cry.

The communication about the pandemic has failed on all possible levels, from states to communities to medical facilities, and more. Over 80 year olds keep washing their hands, but remain ignorant about the impact of aerosols. We know why this is the case: we have to keep shopping/working/consuming to keep that capitalist death machine rolling.


The government doesn't care ofc


Author: Bee [email protected]

Being disabled, i have to choose every action carefully since covid arrived in my country. it was ok at first, my government seemed to care, we had some of the best responses to covid in the world, it was major news whenever double digits of infections were hit. that was until capitalism urged them to loosen restrictions.



now the news doesn't talk about it, the reported numbers are in the hundreds but there's no longer anyone reporting when they get sick, so it's likely thousands each day. every time i have to go out, I'm the only one wearing a mask. i don't feel safe.



my partner got long covid, they have luckily mostly recovered, but while they were in its grasps they cried for me, about the fact that it's what i deal with daily due to my disabilities.



I've yet to catch covid, i take precautions because i know if i do, there's not going to be a coming back. I'll likely be hospitalized, bedridden, or at worst, dead.



the government doesn't care ofc, they realized that they don't need to, the economy will keep turning no matter how many are sick, no matter how many deaths come from covid.



i just wish that my fellow people did. that they remembered that what they struggled with during lockdown is what I've been struggling with for years. and that covid is putting many people in my shoes, permanently. all I'm asking is you wear a mask, it protects you, your friends, your family, and your fellow people.

Bee


A shard of a record with a sticker on it that reads "Masks infringe on your freedom vs. Not wearing masks excludes us". Next to it there's a QR-code that leads to our zine: An Open Letter to our Comrades


Caring About Care


Author: [email protected]

I always talk about how much I owe my intersectional feminism to being pulled from an abusive school environment at the age of 11 by my mother, who taught me at home, battling the British authorities to do so. She moved out to Spain in 2021, with the pandemic still raging on, and with what I assumed to be an acceptance of that fact. Sure enough, in 2022, she celebrated her 80th birthday, and I sent her a card and gave her a call, and all seemed well. A few months later, the man I knew as my father died at age 87, and my siblings wondered if I would be flying out to attend his funeral in Spain, but seemed accepting of my decision not to. Instead, the day after he died, I agreed to write a eulogy for the funeral, which I put together by spending time listening to audio recordings I'd conducted with him a few years back, about his entire life. The eulogy was read out at the funeral and well received. My brother flew back to the UK, and my sister remained in Spain with my mother, as she had been living with my parents for some years.

This year, 2023, my mother's birthday rolled around again: 81! My sister suggested I fly out to attend, but I refused. She offered to pay for the travel, and I still refused. But I sent a card again. I tried to call again too, but there was no answer. I left a voicemail. I sent a text message. Still no answers. For days. Then weeks. Then months. Some people have decided the pandemic is over when they say it is. Or when a politician says it is. I like to say that we can choose capitalism or we can choose care; we cannot have both. My care is obviously something some don't care for.


A shard of a record with a sticker on it that reads "Wearing a mask annoys you? Oh?! We wrote you a letter". Next to it there's a QR-code that leads to our zine: An Open Letter to our Comrades


Palestine, COVID, Cop City—Still Masking Up – Excerpt


Author: [email protected] anti-copyright

I'm lucky that I work at a small shop where I've made myself fairly indispensable, and as a result I can insist on certain things. Like requiring masking.  And like me staying home ten days.

All around, things are crumbling, falling, as if an invisible bomb has gone off. Another coworker is out with a close covid exposure (I can't require them to mask away from work, alas). My parents go to a trade show. Two days later, they've got covid for the first time, too. I can practically hear the raspy voices through social media as one person after another gets infected. They're saying it's up to 1 in 40 in the US now... that seems like a low estimate. Who's counting?

Not only are so many of us out sick, but it's the time of year when so many of us are in retreat even when healthy. When our mental health withers away like the leaves, especially here above 45 degrees north latitude. Our groups go quiet, projects put on hold, as we try to hold out til the end of the year, the promise of new energy after the solstice. Mutual aid groups take a pause, protests don't materialize like they did a few months ago, paint cans and poster stacks and their artists stay indoors. As for me, I've got all sorts of ideas of what to do on my 10 day rest... things to write, comrades to check in with by phone or video, art to prep, books to read.



Almost all of these things end up taking a back seat to sleeping, crying, sitting and staring.

Our enemies, the elites, the owning class, the politicians, the police, don't have the same problems. They get paid to do what they do in service of crushing our dreams and keeping us sick. Sometimes we ask, “how do they sleep at night?” Usually the answer is: comfortably, with full bellies, in large, warm houses with flannel sheets on their queen or king beds (and with better healthcare).

This is an excerpt from a longer piece, find the because of character limits full text here


Longue absence, COVID & COVID long

[Excerpt from a longer blog post in French, our translation] 
Author: [email protected]

August 2023: 3rd COVID

At this point, I tried to get on with my life. I met a woman. I explained my situation to her. That I absolutely must not go through this shit again. That I'd just lost 6 months of my life and I didn't feel any better yet.

Fortunately, she was understanding and aware. She worked in healthcare and assured me that she always wore a mask as well.

This was not true. One evening, I found her at home and noticed that she was coughing. Coughing a lot. I asked her if she was all right. She told me it was nothing, just a “little covid”.

No, she wasn't wearing the mask. No, she hadn't taken me seriously. She thought I was just having a psychosis and that COVID didn't really exist. She didn't want to worry me.

One story ended and a new COVID infection began.

A drawing shows a man standing in a darkened room who looks outside the window through heavy curtains, on the side it reads Long COVID several times in fading font


Opticians, Dentists, and Denialists


Author: [email protected]

I recently read a discussion among people with ME/CFS regarding all the (some quite serious) health problems they aren't sorting due to: not having the energy, – relating to the impact of traveling, getting to and attending the appointments and having related treatment – the gas lighting, the minimizing, the cost. This is made so much worse when you consider the context of a global pandemic, and also the structural issues with trying to access health care, such as lack of appointments and long waiting lists. 

As someone with Long-Covid who is mostly housebound, I relate. As someone who is Covid cautious and acts in accordance to there still being a global pandemic, I relate. My glasses are being held together by tape and glue and I need new lenses as my eyesight has deteriorated, I've got some issues with my teeth (I have tried to eat on one side for over a year now) but I really don't want to risk getting Covid again given my mask would have to come off at a dentist and health care providers have none-to-limited Covid precautions. Plus, so many people, also there for healthcare, in these spaces have sadly long forgone wearing masks. I haven't been able to have a Covid vaccine for 2 years, and was told I wasn't eligible for one when asking a doctor if having Long-Covid would mean I could 'qualify' for a Covid jab. I will wait until the pain becomes unbearable and hope that doesn't happen. 

I know I need to sort these, and other health issues, but the thought of getting Covid by doing so makes me hesitant. Being one of the only people in a closed indoor space wearing a mask is a surreal, distressing experience I dread and try to limit, at detriment to my own health. I am also fed up of being gas lit or minimized at health appointments, having to relive everything because of a lack of coordinated health care, and also having awful PEM from going outside. 

Acting like there is no pandemic, that this isn't a mass disabling event, makes this gas lighting and minimizing more likely. It intensifies existing societal barriers and inequalities. This reflects how embedded ableism and disablism is in the structures, institutions, practices and ideology of late capitalism. Wearing a mask and talking and acting according to science regarding the pandemic is intersectional anarchism. Anarchists shouldn't need mask mandates and states to tell them to do this. So many of us feel forgotten, ignored – including by our radical comrades – and scared. Please, wear a mask, speak out and do what you can to protect yourself and others. In the name of science, collectivism, care, and solidarity.


A photo of a broken record with the slogan: "I believe I sound like a broken record. Listen to those who already have Long COVID. Next to it there's a QR-code that leads to our zine: An Open Letter to our Comrades


Repairperson boogieperson


Author: [email protected]

Every time something breaks in our apartment, our first concern is, can we fix this by ourselves. The thought of needing a repairperson to come here, it would feel like such an intrusion. Into this last bit of space, on a symbolical as well as on a realistic level, where we get to feel safe. Of course HEPA filters, airing the rooms, and other such measures could help after a breach by a repair person, but on the symbolic level it has never felt so crucial to have a safe space, in the most literal sense, a safe space of shared air. For the last three and a half years our home has been our refuge, our shelter, our sanctuary, like never before, the only place where we get to share air with each other without those damn masks.

This is what we aim for with my partner, who keeps masking everywhere as well. For all this time no one else has been inside these walls. Just the two of us, relegated to this life as a nuclear couple by the sheer ignorance of everyone else. Duct tape came to the rescue many times, to fix certain things, a temporary fix, and youtube videos taught us other repairs. We dread having to move from here, because then the damage will come to light. But for now, the main thing is to keep hoping nothing major breaks. And then, one Saturday, it’s always on a Saturday, a letter arrives from the agency, they need to get into our apartment. Sleepless nights ever since.


What does not heal me makes me poorer

Author: [email protected] CC BY-NC

A big collection of medication, supplements and devices that need to be used daily or kept around for certain occasions by a person who has Long COVID, a patterned filter renders the image abstract


Unm(asking) time


Author: A fellow survivor wanna-be

Why do I have to continue

justifying my choices —

of how and why I protect

myself, the ones I care for, the ones I meet

for the first and last time all at once?

When you never have to justify

that the only mask you ever wore seriously

was that of ignorance.

It works, no doubt, you are well-protected

from reality.

So I ask for this only,

do not ask me to justify

if you are so scared of catching

the truth.


Mask Thing

Author: [email protected] anti-copyright

A black and white poster shows a beaver looking startled. The headline reads: Damn right im still doing the Mask Thing, underneath there are some other lines, among them: don’t wanna get u sick and: can’t see me laughing lmao


One Breath at a Time


Author: [email protected] Website: https://ccssite.ccsgraphic.com/opinions.php?year=2023#2023-12-12

The constant vigilance about wearing a mask, worrying if it’s fitting correctly or too old, dirty, or damaged. The loss of spontaneity of eating out or with friends. Cuddling with strangers. The isolation remains while we watch others go out, have fun, and eventually catch COVID.

Do I want a gold star for not having (to my knowledge) caught this virus? No. I just want my sacrifice to have meaning. I want those who normally have immune limitations to have a bit less restriction on their lives. I want this virus not to have long-lasting effects on more lives.

I long for the day I hang out at a friend’s place without weight of asking them to mask for me. To duck into a shop without the dance of the N95 respirator bands over my head. To sing and share food with friends up close.

Until that time, I am appreciating the closeness I share with the ones I live with. Being in solidarity of the ones who continue to mask up. Fighting the fight for a just and accessible world for all—one breath at a time.


A shard of a record with a sticker on it that reads "The pandemic is not over until the people it endangers the most say it is. Next to it there's a QR-code that leads to our zine: An Open Letter to our Comrades


Caramelle

Author: [email protected]

The phone call came late, but it did come in the end. It was only a week before the birthday of my very old mother, who had been suffering from a debilitating illness ever since a “mysterious” infection early in 2023. Now she invited us to dinner at a restaurant in town. It was a formality on her part, she knew we had to decline. She knew exactly that we still socially isolate, and why, and not by choice, but because we have to. I think I have LongCOVID and I do not want to risk a reinfection, which in 78% of cases leads to a worsening of the symptoms.

Not even once has anyone in my family asked what kind of event would work for us, or how an event that includes us would look like. If they asked, we could have told them to maybe meet us outside somewhere, or to go for a walk together. These would be options. But they did not ask. They don't care. They invite us to appease their bad conscience. They puke their guilt right back at us, when they are done projecting it onto us. They know we can't attend indoor events. Abolishing the family has never had as much appeal. 

So my mum, sister and her family went to eat without us, yet again. They went to our favorite restaurant in town, well, it's a shitty town, but nevertheless. They know about this restaurant thanks to us. The restaurant is in the location where we first kissed. We love that place. That night we made caramelle, one of the few vegetarian dishes we could have ordered there.


Outro:

On mastodon we asked for testimonials by people, who continue to live COVID-cautious, either because they are forced to for health reasons or choose to do so, while governments, media, communities, friends, family etc. promote a “new normal” of continuous reinfections with this insidious disease.

Call for contributions from comrades We are looking for contributions for a new zine trying to document what it feels like to still be #COVIDing, pushed into social isolation, while just about everyone else has normalised #COVID19. Whether out of caution or because of preexisting conditions, disabilities or #LongCOVID, we think it is important to communicate how the current situation affects many of us living under the neoliberal system of individualised responsibility.

This zine was made possible by your generous contributions and we want to thank everyone who sent us their testimonials from the bottom of our heart.

The fonts we used in the printed version of the zine are from BADASS LIBRE FONTS BY WOMXN.

This zine was conceived and put together by a radical communal care collective of chronically ill/disabled comrades and their carers. Please feel free to contact us if you are interested to join us.

A few links – for more please check our previous zine:

Berlin Buyers ClubMargareta Stokowski Warning: Meta-LinkThe GauntletPandemic Round UpDeath Panel Podcast Year Four Issue


A big collection of medication, supplements and devices that need to be used daily or kept around for certain occasions by a person who has Long COVID, a red filter renders the image abstract


Fin. And thanks for reading and sharing this. We love you. Stay safe. You are not alone. We could go on. Shall we? We could use your help. Feel free to get in touch.